


What is in a Name?

by bazypitchandsimonsnow (ChessPargeter)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Family Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Simon and Baz are Good Parents, Teen Angst, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessPargeter/pseuds/bazypitchandsimonsnow
Summary: Simon and Baz's teen son, Ebb, is having problems. Simon helps him through it.





	What is in a Name?

**Author's Note:**

> I've written lots of parent fics, but it's usually when the kids are young and/or it's focused on their fictional daughter Tasha. So I wanted to do a fic with teen kids and more focused on their fictional son Ebb. I wrote most of this in like a 3am writing frenzy so sorry for spelling mistakes, I tried to get all of them. Also disclaimer: I'm not a parent, but I tried to do my best. My own amazing parents are super open about their parenting philosophy so I tried to base a lot of this on them. Hope you guys enjoy it :)

**Simon**

When the door slams hard enough to make the entire house rattle, I jump slightly. It’s just a natural reaction to loud noises, no matter how funny Baz thinks it is. I bend my head out of the kitchen just in time to get a glimpse of my son stomping past me.

“Hey, Ebb,” I say. “How was the skatepark?”

Ebb doesn’t answer, just grunts as he goes towards his room. Unfortunately that’s normal nowadays. I hear him stomp up the stairs and slam his bedroom door just as hard. I sigh and shake my head.

I thought Tasha’s teen years were tough, and they were, but Ebb’s are bad in a different way. He’s embarrassed by his cracking voice so he barely speaks, he spends most of his time in his room, and any emotions he has he seems to take out on his wall. There are dirty footprints to prove it. Baz grumbled about cutting off our son’s feet. I had to remind him that we’re not supposed to mutilate our children, no matter how much expensive paint they scuff.

As I’m chopping carrots for the stew, I hear another door opening, then the soft padding of Baz’s fuzzy socks. He wears them over his regular ones. Because of his naturally low body temperature, he still spends a good part of the summer in about three layers.

“Why is Ebb trying to break the house?” he asks bitingly, though he does sound curious too.

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “He doesn’t tell me anything anymore.”

Baz huffs and takes a seat on at the breakfast bar. “Me neither. It’s a miracle if he’ll say more than five words to me in a day.”

I chuckle, dumping carrots in the instant pot. “Lucky. I usually just get grunts.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “I wish he would just tell us why he’s upset. We’ve always told him he can talk to us.”

I shrug. “Well, we can tell him all we want but that doesn’t mean he’ll do it. You and I both know teenagers rarely do what they’re told.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” He leans over the counter. “At least Ebb and Tasha aren’t fighting super villains.”

“Or being a dick to their roommates who they’re in love with.”

He leans closer, a playful smile on his lips. A few silver strands of hair fall in his face. Baz was incredibly relieved when he first started going grey, but now the vain bastard thinks he looks old. I keep assuring him he looks distinguished.

“But it all worked out in the end, remember?”

I lean forward on my elbows. Our noses brush together. We may be in our forties but we still act like sappy teenagers in love sometimes. Old habits die hard. “That it did.”

Honestly, kissing over a counter isn’t the weirdest way of I've kissed Baz. Burning forest still takes the cake, thankfully. But it's still nice. Twenty seven years and two kids later and I haven't tired of kissing him. I don't think I ever will.

I'm so caught up in kissing my husband I guess I don't hear the front door close and footsteps approaching us.

“Gross,” a very familiar voice says. “You're going to get spit in our supper.”

We pull apart, and Baz sighs with a smile. “Hello to you too, Tasha.”

Tasha walks up to Baz hugs him around the shoulders, a big slightly shit eating grin  on her face. “Hi, Papa.”

“What, I don’t get a hug?” I ask with my own grin.

Tasha rolls her eyes. (Sometimes she’s so much like Penny it scares Baz, and me too a bit.) She strolls over, black curly ponytail bouncing, and squeezes me tight. I squeeze her back just as hard. “There, that better, Dad?”

“Very much.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Hi, darling. How was work?”

“Boring,” she sighs. “One lady spent half an hour trying on different jeans and didn’t buy any of them.

“Rude,” I say as I start the instant pot.

“Retail is truly a trail of endurance,” Baz adds all philosophical. I snort.

“You’ve never worked retail.”

Baz glares. “Neither have you, Mr. Bag of Gold.”

“I was a barista at the college coffee shop though.”

“How good was that coffee?” Tasha asks with a little smirk. Baz snickers. She’s a lot like him too.

I glare at my snarky daughter. “Shouldn’t you being doing homework or something, little miss?”

Tasha glares right back. “First of all, I’m seventeen, I’m not little anymore. Second, it’s summer, so no homework.”

“Then go make some homework, I don’t know.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that, Dad.” She starts walking away, bag slung over her shoulder. “First, I’m going to get changed. Call me down for supper?”

“We’ll use the Alexis thing,” I call to her as she goes up the stairs.

“Alexa,” Baz sighs.

I wave my hand dismissively. “Whatever. Amazon talky lady that lets you play morose violin music.”

He giggles, shaking his head. That’s still the most beautiful sound I’ve ever head. “Well, that’s at least accurate.” He looks down at our slightly scuffed instant pot. “How long on the stew?”

I look at the bright blue timer. “Um, forty five minutes.”

“Good.” He offer his hand like the proper gentleman he is. “Want to cuddle and watch Great British Bake Off?”

I grin and take his hand, the metal of his ring pressing into my skin. “Absolutely.”

And I let my husband lead me towards our couch. But just as we sit down, we hear a loud thumping from the room directly above us. Baz winces slightly. With his super hearing it’s probably way louder. He sighs, slumping against me.

“We never should’ve gotten Ebb that bluetooth speaker for Christmas,” he groans.

I shrug, rubbing my hand over his stomach. He still likes that a lot. “Too late now. Let’s just watch the telly.”

Baz curls around me like an affectionate cat. “Sounds good to me.”

I hum happily and pull him closer “Awesome.”

I turn on our next Bake Off episode. We get so involved in all the cake and pastry drama we barely hear Ebb’s extremely loud emo music. I hope he’s alright. He does this a lot, shutting himself in his room and being angsty. Usually it’s over simple stuff we can’t fix, so we’ve learned to just give him his space until he calms down. But still, he’s my kid. I’m always worried about him. So I hope he’s okay.

* * *

 

“Alexis, announce supper is ready,” I say. The stupid black tube doesn’t respond. How are these things supposed to make life more convenient? It’s more useless than my magic used to be.

“Alexa,” Baz calls out from the dining room, “announce supper is ready.”

The black cylinder of frustration rings this time. I frown “Why does it only listen to you?”

“Because I call it by it’s proper name.”

I grumble as I bring in the last bowl. Stupid technology, worse than magic.

Oh Crowley, I sound so fucking old.

I hear Tasha jump down the stairs. (She’s been doing that since she was six.) She enters the dining room, dressed in her Watford Lacrosse sweater and grey trackies, curls piled up on top of her head in some sort of bun.

“Mm, smells good,” she says as she sits down. She immediately goes for her spoon.

“Manners, darling,” Baz scolds kindly. Tasha frowns and cross her arms. She keeps reminding us of how old she is, but she definitely still acts like my little girl sometimes.

“Ebb?” I call up the stairs. “You coming down for supper, love?”

Soon enough, we hear Ebb’s heavy thumps descending. He’s been thumping around a lot recently. Baz jokes that our son is turning into a numpty, and I’ve made him promise to never say that in front of him. Ebb doesn’t need any more issues from us. He stomps in, upper body almost totally hidden by an oversized black sweater. When he sits, I can see his deep scowl. Well, whatever is going on definitely hasn’t resolved. Maybe we’ll talk after supper if he wants.

I put Ebb’s stew bowl in front of him. He grunts in acknowledgement, which is pretty good nowadays. Before I sit down, I make sure to kiss the top of kids’ heads. I’ve done it every supper we’ve had together since they were born. Baz says it’s cheesy, but still thinks it’s sweet. I just want Tasha and Ebb to always know they’re loved, because I never felt that as a kid and I wish I had.

So I lean over and kiss Tasha’s head. She groans with a smile. I lean over to Ebb, but he shifts away, crossing his arms over his chest. I try to hide the way that stings. Well, when kids get older sometimes they don’t always like their dad kissing the top of their head. Tasha told me to stop embarrassing her with it when she was fifteen. She said it was okay again a few months later. Maybe that’ll happen with Ebb too. I don’t know. I hope so...

I sit down, and Baz gives me a sympathetic look from across the table. I smile back at him, trying to say, _“I’m okay.”_ Which I am. Ebb is allowed to do what he wants with his body, that comes before my feelings.

“Let’s eat,” Baz says grandly.

We all unfold our napkins and put them in our laps. (Baz has finally taught me manners over the decades.) All of us eat in relative silence for awhile. I don’t mind, I want to enjoy the stew. Ebb is somehow able to eat while still scowling. Did he learn to do that from Baz or all on his own? Either way, it’s impressive, in a moody teenager way.

“How was work today, love?” Baz asks.

It takes me a second to realise he’s talking to me and not Tasha. I swallow my beef before speaking. “It was good. Lily is finally learning how to make crafts without eating the glue.”

Tasha’s brow furrows. “Do kids really try to eat glue?”

“Oh yeah, lots of glue. And crayons. And dirt. And those massive LEGO bricks. It’s my job to keep them from doing it.”

“Dad, remind me to _never_ become a nursery teacher.”

I give her a _“really?”_ look. She smirks and continues eating. How did I raise such a sarcastic daughter? I blame Baz. And Penny.

“How was your work today?” I ask Baz.

Baz shrugs. He’s picked up on a lot of my habits over the years. “It was alright. Filed some reports, did a few conference calls, had leftover pasta for lunch.”

“Working from home is going well then?” Tasha says between bites.

“Definitely. No more morning commutes on the tube is wonderful.”

I point my fork accusingly at him. “But it also means you don’t get outside enough. You’re going to get even paler, love.”

He waves dismissively with a small smile. “Not possible.”

“We’ll see,” I laugh. I look over at Ebb, who is still scowl eating. I should try to make him feel included. “How was your day, Ebb? Do any cool moves at the skatepark?”

“No,” Ebb grumbles. Well, that’s the first word he’s said to me all day. Baby steps.

“Oh, uh, well that’s a bummer. I bet you’ll do more next time.”

“How are you doing on the half pipe?” Baz asks. “You told me you were doing well last-”

Ebb slams his fork down so hard the table rattles. The crashing sound rings out through the room. Baz looks very taken aback, and slightly in pain. Loud noises up close don’t mix well with his vampire hearing. Tasha and I are just stunned with our backs perfectly straight. Ebb glares at both Baz and I with rageful fire in his eyes.

“Why the fuck did you name me after a bloody Christmas Carol character?!” he shouts.

The whole house is silent. Honestly, I’m too stunned to speak. Baz and Tasha seem to be in the same situation. Ebb glares at us for another few seconds before violently pushing his chair away and storming off. He stomps hard to his room, then slams the door even more forcefully than when he came home.

We stay in stunned silence for another few minutes. I gape at Baz, mouth opening and closing like a fish. His eyes are wider than saucer plates. Tasha is just looking at her food, pushing around hunks of carrots.

“Well,” Baz finally sighs, “that was something.”

“Understating that a bit, Papa,” Tasha says, eyes flicked up. I just nod, mouth still hanging up. I’m still processing stuff.

“Thank you for the commentary, Tasha.” His eyebrows get all scrunchy. “Hasn’t Ebb heard about Ebb Petty around school?”

Tasha shakes her head. “Probably not. I didn’t hear about her until you guys told me, then in class. And learning about The Battle of The Mage has been moved to fifth year magickal history. Headmaster decided it was too grim for the younger kids.”

Baz scoffs. “Well, she has a point. But I suppose Ebb will need at least part of that lesson early.” He looks back at me. “I think you should go talk to him, Simon.”

I shake my head out, finally breaking the shocked spell. “Uh, wait, why me? You’re better at this serious stuff.”

“Because I gave Tasha the talk on her namesake. Now it’s your turn.”

“Could we rock, paper, scissor to do it?” I say with a strained smile.

Tasha’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do you two seriously ‘rock, paper, scissor’ on parenting decisions?”

“No,” Baz says immediately. But when Tasha fixes him with an accusatory look (she’s very good at that), and he shifts uncomfortably. “Occasionally. Not on big things. Usually on who has to help you monsters with the dishes when we’re both tired.”

Tasha shakes her head and goes back to her food. I was only half kidding, really. Baz looks back at me. “Honestly, love, you’ll be better at explaining this. You’re the one who picked his name, and I think you’ll explain its significance the best.”

I chew on my lip, drumming my fingers on the table. I’m nervous. It’s not like I haven’t had hard talks with my kids before. But I still get nervous. I never had parents growing up (the Mage does not count even a bit), so I don’t have any blueprints for this. I've read books and learned from others to make up for it, but I’m always scared I’ll mess them up by accident. Baz assures me I’m not, that I'm a good dad, but that fear doesn’t go away. And from the look on his face, he knows I’m thinking about that again. We’ve gotten good at figuring each other out over the years.

Baz reaches across the table, holds my hand and squeezes. _You’ll do great,_ he says with just his expression. I let out a breath and squeeze back. “Alright, be back in a bit.”

“Alright,” Baz says kindly. “The photo is still in the upstairs hall.”

“Okay.” I get up and start making my way down the hall. As I’m ascending the stairs. I hear Tasha say something.

“Papa, was I this bad when I was thirteen?”

“No,” Baz replies, “you were worse.”

The following snicker tells me Tasha has thrown something (probably her napkin) at Baz’s face. I stifle my loud snort. Ebb doesn’t need to think I’m laughing at him.

I walk down the upstairs hall. Ebb’s room is right at the end. Before I go in, I grab a particular photo on the wall. It’s not the original polaroid, since Fiona wanted to keep it. But it’s a good copy. I’m glad we have it. I like to look at it.

I get to Ebb’s door. It’s covered in KEEP OUT signs he printed off the internet. I knock firmly, but not too loud. “Ebb? Can I come in?”

“Go away!” he shouts. I know he’s trying to be forceful, but his voice cracks, which takes away a bit of the impact. Do not laugh, Simon, don’t you dare laugh. You’re supposed to be a good father, dammit.

“I know you want to be alone, but I really think we need to talk.”

There’s a short silence, only filed with the faint sound of creaking springs. Ebb must be rocking or shuffling on his bed.

“Are you gonna yell at me?” he asks. He sounds so small and nervous. It reminds me that no matter how moody or rude he is, he’s still my little boy, who cried because he couldn’t fit all his plush toys on his bed and he didn’t want any of them to feel left out. He’s not some monster, even if he was being a bit of a brat earlier.

“No, love,” I say kindly, “I’m not going to yell. I just want to talk.”

I wait through another short silence with mattress squeaking. “Okay,” he finally says.

I open the KEEP OUT door and enter Ebb’s room. He covered it in punk and metal band posters a few months ago. A lot of them are from Fiona. She’s very happy to _“finally have someone in this family with good music taste.”_ (Sixty four years old and she’s still as punk as ever.) Ebb is sitting on his bed, back against the wall, oversized hoodie over his pulled up knees. The hood is up and the collar is pulled up to his freckled nose. He looks like a black blob. His curly dark hair is falling in his face. It reminds me of Baz when we were teenagers. He’s even got the same sort of haircut. Part of me wonders if he found an old picture of Baz and took it to the hairdresser.

I sit down on the end of the bed, giving Ebb space but not sitting too far away.

“Hi,” I say with a soft smile, showing him that I’m really not going to shout.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks. He’s trying to sound normal, but I hear the nervous twinge.

“No,” I sigh. “Honestly, I’m a bit disappointed, but I’m not mad. You know Papa doesn’t like loud noises, and I wish you would have talked with us calmly without making a scene.”

He burrows deeper into the hoodie, looking down at his knees. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” I shift a bit closer. “You get to be a pissy teenager sometimes, it’s normal. God knows both me and Papa were.” That makes him smile a little. “But I’m the dad, so it’s my job to reign you in.”

He nods and emerges slightly from his sweater. “Okay.”

I grin, putting my hand on the bed near him. “Good, glad we’ve got that sorted. Now let’s talk about why you were upset.” Ebb frowns and goes back into his sweater. Parenting is two steps forward, one step back sometimes. “I’m guessing something happened with your name. Did someone make fun of it?”

Slowly, still beneath all that black fabric, Ebb looks up with his big brown eyes. I can’t see his mouth but I assume he’s pouting or frowning. “Yeah...”

My heart breaks a bit. I can’t help it. I know bad things will happen to him, it’s inevitable, but it still hurts me when my kid gets hurt. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I-It wasn’t that bad, really.”

“Doesn’t matter how bad it was, love, you can talk about it.”

Ebb emerges more, his arms moving more into his lap so he can fiddle with his fingers.  “It was Dylan.”

“One of your Normal friends?”

“Yeah. He’s usually cool but he can be an arsehole sometimes.”

“Language, darling.”

He looks away. “Sorry, Dad.”

“It’s alright. So Dylan made from of your name?”

“Uh-huh. He asked me what ‘Ebb’ meant, and I said it was short for Ebenezer. Then he started laughing. I asked him why he was doing that, and he said he couldn’t believe my dads named me after the guy from Christmas Carol. I didn’t know what that was so I asked and he laughed at me more. Then he got everyone else to laugh with him. It was super embarrassing.”

I shift closer and put a hand on his knee. He doesn’t shove me off, so I keep it there. “I’m sorry, love, that sounds terrible. Kids can be really mean.”

Ebb blows air out his nose and nods. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that.” He shrugs slightly. “I don’t know. I just hated feeling stupid, y’know?”

I chuckle. It’s actually really good I’m doing this. Baz would do well, of course, he’s a great father, but this is definitely more my territory. “Yes, I really know that, darling. I completely understand. I felt stupid all the time as a kid.”

“Really?” he says with a surprising amount of shock. “But you’re so smart!”

“That’s very sweet, Ebb,” I say, still laughing a little. “But at your age, I didn’t think I was smart at all. I could barely speak properly, I needed Aunt Penny to tutor me in every class, and I was the worst mage ever.”

“I thought you were the Chosen One.”

“Yeah, but that was because of a prophecy and me exploding a lot. That didn’t mean I was any good at magic back then.”

He nods thoughtfully, similar to Baz when he’s reading. “Okay. That makes sense.”

“Glad to hear I make sense for once.” I move so I’m right pressed against his legs. “I really get why you were mad, Ebb. Dylan was being a jerk and that sucks. You’re allowed to be upset. Now I’m here to tell you something he doesn’t know.”

“Oh?”

I lean forward, a big grin on my face. “Dylan is a big dummy, because you’re not named after a Dickens character.”

Ebb’s eyes go wide, lips falling open. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m pretty sure I remember who I named you after.”

“Who was it then? Ebenezer isn’t a really common name...”

“No, it’s definitely not.” I motion at him with my hand. “C’mon, sit here. I’ve got something to show you.”

Ebb cautiously emerges from his hoodie cocoon, and sits next to me on the edge of the bed. He’s not pressed up against me but he’s very close. I flip over the picture frame. According to Fiona, she took this during summer break in a bar in Scotland. It makes sense. All three of them look properly sozzled in the photo.

“What’s this?” Ebb asks.

“Well, it’s a photo,” I say. Ebb knocks my shoulder.

“Oh for Merlin's sake,” he groans. “Just tell me, Dad.”

“Fine fine, if you insist. This is a photo from a very long time ago.” I point to seventeen year old Fiona’s smiling flushed face. “That right there is your Great Aunt Fiona when she was a teenager.”

“She doesn’t like us calling her Great Aunt. Says it makes her feel old.”

I snort, but it’s with kindness, I swear. “Yeah, that sounds like Fiona. But back to my point, that’s her when she went to Watford.” I move over to a familiar blonde man. The sight of his face doesn’t make my blood boil like it used to, but there’s a small ache. “That's her friend from school, Nicodemus Petty.”

Ebb’s face screws up. “Nicodemus? Really?”

“Yeah, and you thought your name was bad, kid.” He snorts and smiles. I feel like I’ve accomplished at least something. I bring my finger over to the last person. She’s grinning too, longish blonde hair falling in her face. Looking at her gives me a small ache too but in a different way. “And that, is Fiona’s other friend and Nicodemus’ twin sister, _Ebeneza_ Petty. Everyone called her Ebb.”

I watch as Ebb’s eyes go incredibly wide. His fingers curl over the wooden picture frame. I let him take it from me. He holds it in his lap, staring at it. “That’s who I’m named after?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m named after a girl?”

“Yes, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Don’t let your Aunt Penny catch you talking like that.”

His mouth twists around with shame, so I think he gets it. He keeps staring at Ebb Senior’s face. “But, why did you name me after her?”

I knew that question was inevitable. I’ve been trying to figure out what to say in my head, but nothing really works perfectly. Oh well. Have to try my best.

“Well,” I sigh, “a lot of reasons. Biggest one was that Ebb was just a good person and I wanted to honour her. When I first met her, she was kind to me. She didn’t treat me like a Chosen One or a weird sort of Normal group home kid, she was just nice. I’d never had an adult simply be nice to me before her.”

“So, she was like your mum?”

I shake my head. “No, she wasn’t a mum. Ebb was just my friend, but she was a really good one. She listened to my problems and helped however she could, usually gave me advice and such. Sometimes she just let me hang out at her house. It gave me an escape from all the stuff I was going through. She let me just be a kid with her.” I sigh, mind going back to the memories of tea and little china goats. “I admired her a lot too, honestly. Ebb was super powerful like me, but she never let that define her. Y’know what she did for most of her life?”

“What?”

“Herded goats on the Watford grounds.”

Ebb starts giggling. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. She herded goats, lived in a little cottage on the field, made tea, and that was about it. But that’s all she wanted to do. Ebb never let anyone tell her what she had to be. She was incredibly strong that way.”

Ebb looks up at me, sadness in his eyes. “You’re talking about her in the past tense. Does that mean she’s dead? Like Grandma Natasha?”

I sigh, then nod slowly. My heart is aching a bit more. “Yeah, she passed away a long time ago, love.”

“How did she die? Was she just really old or sick or something?”

 _I wish,_ I almost say. But that feels a little too sarcastic right now. “Well, the whole story is a bit too long and sad for right now. I’ll tell you all of it one day. But essentially Ebb sacrificed herself. She saved your Auntie Agatha’s life and lost her own because of it.” I stare at younger Ebb’s smiling face in the picture. I feel a few tears well up and I push them away. “Ebb didn’t want to be a hero, and she never should’ve been put in that position, yet she was one in the end, i guess. Because she was too much of a good person to let someone get hurt.”

“Do you miss her?”

I look down at him with a small smile. “Sometimes. Not as much as I used to, but the sadness comes back every once in awhile. Just like Papa and Grandma Natasha.”

I don’t tell him that I’m honestly mostly angry. Ebb never wanted to be a hero, and the magickal world just wouldn’t leave her alone. She should still be here, taking care of her goats, living in her cottage, being nice to my kids the way she was nice to me. But she’s not. And that’s so horribly wrong.

“Dad? Are you alright?”

I look at Ebb, my Ebb, again. He looks concerned. No matter how pissy he is, he’s still very empathetic and kind. He’s a good kid. Maybe I’m actually doing a good job as a parent. Maybe the older Ebb would be proud of me. At the very least, she’d be very happy for me. All she ever wanted was for me to be happy, and I am. I put an arm around my Ebb’s shoulder, and he leans into me.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’m good, love.” I look him in the eye to make sure he’s listening. “Now, I’m not telling you all this to guilt you about being embarrassed over your name. You don't have to like it any more or less now. And if you want to change it, that's totally cool. Your Papa and me want you to be happy, and if that means going by a different name, okay. We’ll always love you no matter what. I’m just telling you so you understand where Ebenezer came from and why we picked it. Also so you know,” I poke his nose, making his face pinch up, “that we would never, ever name you after a Dickens character.”

Ebb laughs loudly. It snorty and raucous. My heart soars. That’s a sound I haven’t heard in awhile. How I’ve missed it.

“Okay,” he giggles, “I believe you.”

“Good, glad that’s all cleared up.

He smiles softly, leaning his head on my shoulder. He’s getting taller every day. I keep whining about how big our kids are getting and Baz just rolls his eye and tells me to not be sad over the inevitable. Tosser. I know he’s going to be a mess when they move away.

“I think I’ll stick with Ebb for now,” he says half into my shirt.

I squeeze his shoulder and kiss his head. (Well, his hoodie.) “Okay. Whatever you want.”

Suddenly, he throws both arms around me, hugging me tight. I’m shocked for a second. It’s been awhile since he’s hugged me, let alone this hard. “I love you, Dad.”

Well, my heart has melted into my shoes. I’m reminded of what Malcolm told me after Tasha was born. He only started having actual conversations with me after her. Maybe he felt we finally had something in common. He told me that being a parent is frustrating and rage inducing at times, but there will always be moments that remind you why you wanted to be one in the first place. This is probably (definitely) one of those moments.

I hug Ebb back. “I love you too, darling. Always will, no matter what.”

We hug for a little while. I savour it, a small part of me wondering when this will happen again. I like hugging my son, sue me. Eventually, Ebb pulls back slightly. He wipes his eye and nose with his hand. I grab the tissue box and hand it to him. I may have unbreakable poor hygiene habits, but I can teach my kids better ones.

“Wanna go watch Doctor Who?” I ask as he blows his nose.

“Okay,” he replies. “Are there still ice cream bars in the freezer?”

I grin and stand up, offering my hand. “Yup. We should raid them.”

Ebb smiles and takes my hand. He holds on tight. So do I. I’ll let him hold on as long as he wants.

We go back downstairs. Tasha’s upbeat pop music is playing from the kitchen. I’m not surprised to see her spinning and dancing with a dish towel in one hand and wand in the other. Little fireworks burst from the tip in time with the song. Baz is leaning over the sink, just finishing up with the last pot. He’s pointedly not acknowledging the music, save for tapping his foot. He’s still pretentious as anything, especially when it comes to music. Our eyes meet. He mouths _“okay?”,_ and I nod.

I feel Ebb let go of my hand and watch him walk over to Baz. He throws his arms around Baz and mumbles a “sorry, Papa” into his shirt. Baz smiles, hugging Ebb back and whispering what I can safely assume is him accepting the apology and saying he loves him. Both Baz and I say _“I love you”_ as much as we can. He didn't hear it a lot growing up and I didn't hear it at all. We want to make sure our kids will never wonder if they're loved or not.

Ebb looks up at Baz, chin digging into his chest. "Dad said we could have ice cream bars while we watch Doctor Who."

Baz raises his eyebrow at me. I smile sheepishly. "Did he?"

"Uh-huh."

"I see. Well then, someone will have to go to the basement freezer."

Ebb frowns. "I got them last time. It's Tasha's turn."

"No!" Tasha shouts. "I did it last time!"

Baz looks to me. "Do you remember who did it last time?"

I shake my head. "No clue."

Tasha and Ebb look at each other. It seems like they're communicating via telepathy. Baz says it's a sibling thing, that I wouldn't get it because I'm an only child. I don't have to have a sibling to know it's fucking weird.

"On three?" Tasha says.

"Loser cleans the stove?" Ebb replies.

"Deal." She throws her cleaning rag on the counter. "One...three!"

Tasha dashes off. Ebb pushes off Baz and runs after her. "Hey no fair!"

We listen as they run through the house. I walk forward and Baz immediately pulls me to him. I relax instantly. He’s always a solid weight I can lean against when I'm tired. His arms are steel bands across my back. I sigh against his neck.

"It went well?" he whispers.

"Yeah," I say. "Some kid made fun of his name and made him feel dumb. I told him that the kid was a jerk, that I know how he felt, and he definitely wasn't named after the guy from Christmas Carol."

Baz chuckles, running his hand up and down my back. "We may be mad but we're not cruel."

"Exactly. I told him about Ebb so he knows where his name really comes from."

"Did you tell him the whole story?"

I shake my head. "No, just that Ebb was a really nice person I loved, who sacrificed herself to save Agatha. We'll have to tell him the whole story one day though, before he learns about it in class.”

“Yes, very true. Let’s hope Ebb will understand it as well as Tasha did.”

“He will. He’s smart, he’ll be able to handle it.”

“Agreed.” He slowly runs his fingers through my hair. It’s not as thick and curly as it used to be, but Baz still loves to do that. “You did a good job, love. A+ parenting.”

My grin spreads across my face. I’m not smug, more relieved than anything. It’s nice to hear that I’m not fucking up my son. And I know Baz wouldn’t outright lie to me to make me feel better. He really means it. I’m doing alright. I’m giving my kids good childhoods, far better than anything I ever had. That’s all I want.

“Tasha! I touched them first!” I hear Ebb shout, followed by jumping steps coming up from the basement. Tasha literally slides into the kitchen on her socks. She holds up the book of fudge bars in front of us.

“Got them, I win!” she says with the biggest shit eating grin.

“Cheater!” Ebb stands at the doorway with hands on his hips. I don’t say it, but now his hood has fallen off, and with his loose curly hair and tons of freckles (he’s got more than Tasha and me combined), he looks like a pissed off fairy. He’s so adorable. “I touched the box first but she grabbed it before I could!”

Baz and I give each other with a _“are we supposed to resolve this?”_ expression.

“Well, we don’t know the rules of this race,” I say.

“Except that the loser has to clean the stove,” Baz interjects. “So compromise, you both clean the stove.”

“Papa!” they both whine.

I flick his ear. Baz flicks my side in retaliation. This is the closest to our old brawls we get nowadays.

“Let’s have ice cream and watch telly first,” I say, taking the box from Tasha. “Then we’ll figure out what to do with the stove.”

“Fine,” Ebb sighs. “Can I pick the episode?”

“As long as it’s not the library. That one gives you nightmares.”

He frowns, though it’s closer to a pout. “Does not.”

“Does too.”

I open the box and start doling out the last four ice cream bars. Tasha snatches hers with a chirpy “thank you!” and runs to the living room. She wants to grab her favourite spot on the couch. Baz takes one and kisses my cheek. Finally, I give one to Ebb.

“Thanks,” he says with a soft smile. I’m pretty sure he’s talking about more than just the ice cream. I put my arm around his shoulders. He doesn’t flinch away at all.

“You’re very welcome, Ebb. Always.”

He leans on me again, putting an arm around my waist. “Do you think the other Ebb would’ve like me?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “She would’ve adored you.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. You’re amazing and strong and unashamed to be yourself. How could she have not loved you?”

He blushes with embarrassment, but smiles all the same. “Okay. I think...I think I would've liked her too.”

I grin, then kiss his soft, curly head. He doesn't pull away. “C’mon, let’s watch some David Tennant.”

We walk into the living room. Tasha is already in favourite corner with her feet on the ottoman. Baz is on the other side with his arm over the back of the couch. I sit next to my husband of course, and he pulls me close, rubbing my shoulder slowly. Ebb sits between Tasha and I, leaning his back on my side and putting his legs over Tasha’s lap. She tries to push him off but all that skateboarding has made his legs strong. Eventually Tasha relents with a huff. Baz gets the Amazon lady to dim the lights and start the episode Ebb picks. 

We watch the show in relative quiet. Tasha makes snarky comments every once awhile, and Ebb pokes her with his toe, telling her to shut up. Baz calls them both annoying chatterboxes, but with lots of love in his voice.

It’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Aw, what an adorable family. Tbh I just really the idea of Simon and Baz having kids. They would be good parents imo. And it's fun to explore in writing, cause I feel like both of them would have fears based off their own childhoods. I've done some stuff about that before and I like writing about it. Hope you all liked reading it. Until next time :D


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